


Glass Hearts

by LitMech (PatrioticFrisbee)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Older Work, victorian au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:30:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatrioticFrisbee/pseuds/LitMech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik is a man with a Heart made of Glass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glass Hearts

"Do you love me," As the words left him, they settled in the air like ice diamonds; shards of glass hanging from the ceiling that shake and glitter and will fall and pierce a bystander with nary a second glance. Gore them, skewer them with words no one means to say but in the throes of arguments and passion let fall past their lips like so much poison. What's said is said, done is done, past is past, and leaves Erik on bended knee before the sole person on whom he hangs in hat and heart. This tiny, mouse-ish man before him, dress for a night out, a night out Erik himself had promised, and is withholding from him.

Quietly Erik sits, and he prays.

All this, waxing poetic of dramatic situations, deep thoughts of regret over four measly words, takes place in but mere milliseconds. Shorter, surely, than even that, for Erik feels he has barely had the time to blink let alone take a breath before Charles' face is set in mild displeasure and frustration. His words are instantaneous, chasing Erik's from the air like hounds, and his lovely brow ins wrinkled with the effort.

"Of course," And Erik feels the glass shards above him turn to warm rain water, dotting his soul with affection and kisses that promise, promise, of life and love and old age. It is in him to smile, to laugh, to bow back his head and praise Heaven and each Angel in it, but Charles simply presses on. "Silly man. Need you ask? Am I mad, yes, but I see no reason your mindless anger would change how I feel."

And just like that Charles is standing, leaving Erik with a lovely view of his pant leg, before he raises his own eyes to meet sharp, intelligent blue.

"Come now, up off the floor. As deplorable as you claim my friends to be, we're meeting them. It is the holiday, after all. Happy Christmas and Hallelujah and all that nonsense, hm? Just nod and pretend you celebrate it," And Charles offers him a smile, a hand, a metaphorical olive branch. Erik just gapes up at him, for a moment, shocked and awed and torn down and built up in the span of perhaps a whole minute, all by the petite professor who now stands expectantly before him. With a sigh, Charles leans at the hip to place a soft kiss to his parted lips. "There will be wine, and I will be having of it. Are you ready to go or shall you sit as wide mouth as a cod here on my library floor?"

Erik peers into entrancing blue, endless, fathomless, kind and gentle and all things Erik isn't and never will be and always wanted. He shrugs.

Charles huffs a sigh and takes him to his feet by his elbow. "Honestly," he chastises, and Erik is vaguely aware of Charles using a handkerchief, or perhaps a glove, the dust off his trousers. "Sometimes I wonder if Raven has any truth behind her accusations."

"Accusations," Erik hears himself ask, a smile tugging at his lips. Charles just smiles, small and coy and knowing, and leads on. Erik follows.

He always will, for Charles.


End file.
